


Get Lucky

by lizardinexile



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, so fluffy you could make clouds out of it, unadulterated fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizardinexile/pseuds/lizardinexile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond gets stood up and decides to go see what has his date so captivated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff for the sake of really adorable fluff.

James Bond was normally a very patient man. He could wait, though he preferred not to be kept waiting. It seemed that more often than not when he was meeting with a certain brunette the time at which he established they would meet and the time at which said brunette finally decided to show was somehow always at least a half hour different. Much to his dismay this night did not prove to be an exception to this trend. After a full forty minutes had passed, Bond stood from the brightly lit crystal curtained off table in the dark restaurant and departed.

Being Quartermaster entailed a long list of chores that seemed to have Q working around the clock. Brilliant or not, busywork was busywork and some things couldn’t be solved in one keystroke. Often the (relatively) young Quartermaster got lost in said tasks, jumping from one to the other with little realization of what the time was or how much had passed. If something important came up – say a deadline or a meeting – one of the other residents of MI6 would come and get him. Unfortunately for Q, and more unfortunate still for Mr. Bond, most were not aware of his personal affairs. 

Such imagery of Q, lost in work and diligently typing away long after the other members of his team had called it a night, gave Bond a sense of understanding that doused his earlier irritation. Instead of finding Q lamenting and slaving over his work however, Bond walked in to find slim shoulders moving to and fro as his fingers swept easily across the keys, lit only by his monitor and a single overhead lamp left on farther off. Dark brown curls bounced with the movement of Q’s head as the momentum of his swing picked up. A blonde eyebrow perked and James approached him, noticing a few small hip wiggles that brought a slight grin to his lips. The black over-the-ear headphones plugged into the laptop seemed to sufficiently block out his advance, for which he was grateful. With a quick motion the headset was unplugged but the reward of startling the normally restrained Q was dampened by the ungodly assault that blasted from the speakers.

“ _She’s up all night for good fun, I’m up all night to get lucky, we’re up all night to the sun…_ ”

“What in the world are you listening to?” The immediate cringe that had overtaken Bond’s features was reduced to a look of mild disapproval and curiosity as Q tapped the volume down. Q’s passive annoyance met his look and he spun fully to face James, his own expression partially obscured by shadow.

“Music,” he answered with the start of a smirk pulling at the edges of his lips. Q may have been caught enjoying his work, but he wasn’t going to give Bond the satisfaction that showing embarrassment would lend itself to. “Daft Punk, actually. They’ve released a new single and I quite enjoy it. I've actually written a program that loops music in interesting ways, and this track has kept me pleased for quite a while now.” Bond’s expression stayed in place and caused Q to raise a brow in return. He pushed his glasses up with a single knuckle and looked to his companion with slight amusement. “Not to your taste?” 

“Not quite, no,” came Bond’s response. “I suppose that’s because I have taste though.” A scoff met the end of Bond’s sentence.

“I’ll have you know I mastered Beethoven’s Ninth when I was all of six years old. When one spends their childhood forced into nothing but what you would consider tasteful music, one gets bored,” Q quipped in reply. A hard scowl crumpled his brow, and he turned back to his laptop.

"You're mad at me now."

"I wouldn't say mad."

"What would you say then?" Bond's arms folded over his chest as he watched Q go back to typing away on his laptop.

"Vaguely irritated," he answered, humor biting at the edge of his tone.

“How is it that I was the one stood up and yet I’m still the one who gets in trouble?” Bond gave a sigh that devolved into a chuckle, his index finger rubbing circles on his temple.

“Probably because you’re an arrogant twat,” Q replied, his lips curling into a wry grin.

“Probably,” Bond said with an exaggeratedly wounded huff and ducked his chin in agreement. He closed the distance and placed his hands on Q’s shoulders. Q raised his head and looked behind himself, and in turn was greeted by a soft kiss that he was more than happy to reciprocate. An apology on both sides, a genuine smile amid the playful antagonism, and they parted.

“Perhaps this will be more to your taste,” Q remarked as he queued up a soundtrack. “Same artists, but different from their normal style. It was from one of the most visually pleasing films I’ve seen in a while.” Q’s head pressed lightly into Bond’s chest as he looked up at him, striking the space key. Warm, rough hands greeted his neck and shoulder, and Q let out a hum of contentment. “Enjoy.” The overture swelled and not entirely to Bond’s surprise, he did.


End file.
